


And Your Bird Can Sing Outtakes

by Abagail_Snow



Series: And Your Bird Can Sing Universe [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3430376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abagail_Snow/pseuds/Abagail_Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various drabbles written for the And Your Bird Can Sing universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spontaneity

**Author's Note:**

> I occasionally post drabbles on tumblr that get lost in my mess of a blog. Here are the drabbles related to the And Your Bird Can Sing universe.

“You look ridiculous, you know,” Peeta said. He was sitting on her bed, idly flipping through a magazine, his back against the headboard and shoe clad feet propped on top of the decorative hotel duvet. He folded the magazine in half to display the image in question.

Katniss was leaning across the dresser on the other side of the room, using the mirror on the wall to hastily apply makeup with an untrained hand. She paused to humor him, squinting her eyes to make out the small picture in question.

It was the “Celebrity Sightings” page, and she recognized the photo from a staged paparazzi outing a few weeks ago. She was wearing oversized sunglasses and a frumpy maxi dress beneath a loose fitting sweatshirt with the hood pulled up.

“Cinna suggested it,” she said, turning her attention back to the mirror. Her first album was mere weeks from being released, and she was back in Los Angeles for the first time since the publicity circus she and Peeta had endured the year before. Plutarch had insisted on building buzz around her name, much to Katniss’s chagrin. “It was a compromise.”

“Why are you dolling yourself up then, if you’re just going to go outside with a ski mask on?” he teased, tossing the magazine aside.

She scowled at him, turning her attention back to the mirror to finish her blush. “Another compromise,” she said. Plutarch had expressed his displeasure at her willingness to cooperate with the album’s promotion, suggesting that if he wanted to take her picture, he wouldn’t have to ask for her permission.

“Ah, I remember the days when people wanted my picture,” Peeta said.

“Don’t unflatter yourself,” she said dryly. She packed away her makeup kit, checking her reflection one last time before moving to sit beside him on the bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist to draw her flush against him. His breath was pleasantly warm against her neck, and she shivered when the scruff on his cheek brushed against her chin. “Being an associate producer isn’t nearly as glamorous as being an actor,” he murmured, his lips ghosting against her throat.

Her eyelids fluttered shut when his hand flattened against her abdomen and his thumb flexed to brush the underside of her breast. She inhaled sharply, her entire body tightening in anticipation of his hand’s path. Her mind was quickly becoming clouded, and the prospect of leaving her hotel room to have her picture taken on the way to her tour rehearsal became even less appealing.

She needed a distraction. She twisted away from him slightly to meet his eye. “What’s an associate producer again?”

“I’m still not quite sure,” Peeta said, running a hand through his hair with a sigh before he settled back against the headboard. “Finnick assures me it’s a very important title.”

“As in the Mellark/Odair Project was the only title the film needed to be green lit?”

“Until they realized we wouldn’t be in it.”

“See,” she said, pausing to press a kiss against his lips. “People still want to see your face after all.”

She began to stand, but he caught her elbow, pulling her near to kiss her again. “I’m sorry you have to put on this show again,” he said. He smoothed her braid over her shoulder, tracing a finger along the woven plait. “And that you’re doing it alone.”

“I’m not,” she said, leaning her forehead against his. “You’re here.”

“I’m hiding,” he argued.

“And it’s better that way. It’s something they can’t touch.” She twisted to lay beside him and curled into his chest. “I need this privacy,” she said. He hummed in agreement, his hand methodically stroking her back. It was calming. Soothing. It was nice.

She wanted this. Forever if she could. But still, sometimes she missed the simpler things. Casual walks, dinner with friends. Spontaneous types of things.

Instead her life was a meticulously scheduled performance of staged events and industry responsibilities. Even at home she couldn’t truly escape the cameras.

“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like,” she said, her finger plucking the collar of his shirt. “To be reckless and young.”

He chuckled, his chest reverberating beneath her ear. “How so?”

“I don’t know. To not think of the consequences and just live in the moment, I guess.”

“You want to have sex in a public place, don’t you?” he said, unable to bite back his teasing laughter.

She scoffed. “What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was I the only one who was thinking it?”

She could feel heat pooling in her cheeks. She wasn’t sure what she was thinking before, but now her body was buzzing with the thought.

He seemed to sense this and he held her closer, rolling her body so that she straddled his thigh. “The back of a taxi, the bathroom stall of a club – the kind of things that gossip rags always pick up on.”

Her lips felt incredibly dry and her tongue darted out to wet them. “That could be nice,” she said tightly.

He gripped her hips to slide his leg between hers, the friction against her core sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

“You’ve got to get to your rehearsal,” he said huskily.

She groaned, exerting every ounce of willpower to climb off the bed. “I’ll see you later,” she said, parting with one last kiss.

Rehearsal was uneventful. There wasn’t any choreography, but there were a few group numbers with the other acts on tour that had to be staged. The arena was only a few blocks from the hotel she was staying at, so she decided to walk back instead of taking the car the studio arranged for her. The paparazzi already had their photos after all, they had no reason to follow her again.

She had only turned down the first street when her phone began to buzz.

_ Turn right on Olympic. _

She confirmed the sender and rolled her eyes.

_ Why’s that? _  she typed back in response.

“Because I’ve got a surprise for you,” she heard from behind.

She turned quickly, but already his mouth was on hers and he was backing her against the brick wall of a nearby alleyway.

“I thought we could try out impulsive,” he said, hitching up her leg to wrap around his waist. She hissed when he thrust against her, his arousal pressing against her in a way that made her dizzy.

There were a few restaurants and clubs nearby, and although they were alone now, they wouldn’t remain that way for long.

“People know we’re both in town,” she said before her mind lost all reason. “And they know we’re staying in the area.”

His mouth found her neck, his tongue swirling hot patterns against her flesh. “Be reckless and young, Katniss,” he said.

“Peeta,” she admonished, pushing weakly against his chest.

He gripped her wrists, holding them loosely between their bodies before lifting them above her head to pin her against the wall.

“Yes?” he asked innocently. He shifted his grasp so both wrists were secured by one hand, then he trailed his free hand down the front of her dress, slipping it beneath the hem.

“Peeta,” she repeated, but her protests were forgotten when the pads of his fingers touched the inside of her thigh.

She sighed, her stance widening to offer him better access.

“What?” he said, tracing along the elastic of her underwear.

A sharp cry escaped her and she rolled her hips to desperately meet his teasing fingers.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, still hovering just outside of her reach. “I can wait until we’re back at the hotel.”

“No, please keep going,” she whimpered, thrashing against him.

With a satisfied smirk, he slipped his hand into his underwear. He slipped his fingers through her folds until they were coated with her arousal then pressed firmly against her clit, swirling in tight circles until her knees began to buckle.

He bowed his head, his breath hot against the deep neckline of her dress. He nudged the fabric aside to release her breast, and greedily began to work her nipple between his teeth.

Her hands clenched into fists above her head, trembling with the urge to tangle in his golden curls.

“Oh,” she shouted, when his fingers pushed harder and faster, pushing her over the edge. Her knees collapsed beneath her weight and she would have fallen to the ground if his arms weren’t there to catch her. She buried her face in his neck, struggling to catch her breath as she rode out her orgasm. “I liked that,” she said breathlessly. “That was good.”

But then she heard what sounded to be the familiar click of a camera shutter, and her body froze with terror. “What was that?” she said, looking around, suddenly alert.

Peeta arched an eyebrow, seemingly oblivious. “Katniss, there’s no one here.” And when she looked around with a more critical eye, she saw that he was right.

But the truth was she’d never feel truly alone out in public, not anymore. There was always someone watching, even if she couldn’t see.

She forced a smile and kissed him briefly. “Let’s finish this somewhere more private,” she said.

  
  


 


	2. Chirstmas I

Effie should have caught it.  It was as simple as that.  

When Caesar Flickerman invited Peeta to appear on his Variety Show Christmas Special, Peeta was somewhat excited by the prospect.  In lieu of a payment, the show would be making a sizable donation to Peeta’s favorite charity, and although he had become rather disillusioned by the profession, he still enjoyed the craft and found something admirable about live performing.  It was something he’d always wanted to try, and since it was only a one time thing, it was a schedule he could commit to.

It had been months since the media circus that had rocked the early summer, and although it was probably too soon to test the waters, he knew it would be a treat to his fans (as vein as it sounded in his head.)  Plus the show would be in New York, rather than Los Angeles, giving him some welcome anonymity within the crowd.

He was eager to tell Katniss about the news, but all day at the restaurant, she seemed to be in a dour mood.

They had been dating, unofficially, for a few weeks now and were stuck in that tentative gray phase between casual and something serious.  

Peeta knew what he wanted.  He’d always known.  But he didn’t want to come on too strongly again.  Not like the last time.  He was leaving the ball in Katniss’s court, which was a tough game to play, since she always held her cards so close to her vest.

"You okay?" he said, taking the seat across the table from her.

She was furiously chewing through her third bread basket and scribbling something in her notebook.  She looked up at him with a steely gaze for the briefest of moment before her face softened with a sigh.

"Plutarch roped me into this stupid Christmas show," she said.  "It’s this Mockingjay thing — but not, some show for Caesar Flickerman."

"His variety show?"

She narrowed her eyes.  ”You’ve heard of it?”

He scrubbed his hand over his face.  Effie should have known about this conflict.  ”I’m signed for it too,” he said.

"What?"  Her face paled and her gray eyes were now as wide as saucers.  "You can’t," she said.  "We can’t both."

Peeta slipped his phone from his pocket to check his e-mail.  ”It’s already in the press release,” he said apologetically.  ”We must have signed at the same time.”

She dropped her face into her hands.  ”Well I can’t get out of it,” she said.  ”I’ve already tried a thousand times, but Plutarch insists that I owe him.”

"I could," Peeta said reluctantly.  "People are going to talk whether I pull out or not at this point.  Maybe it’s good to get it out in the open now."

"Get what out?" she said somewhat harshly.

"That we can coexist."

She picked at the crumbs in the bread basket, gathering them on the tip of her finger then brushing them away.  She pressed her lips together then met his eye.  

"I’m sorry," she said.  "I’m being awful right now.  You should do it.  I can tell you want to."

"I do," he admitted.

"It’s going to be stupid," she said, but now her voice was teasing.

"I know."

And it was.  But it was fun.  So much fun.  Peeta appeared in a sketch about Hollywood heat throbs, and another where he played one of Santa’s little helpers.  He and Caesar had an easy rapport that the producers loved, so much so that they added him as a sidekick of sorts to the opening and closing monologue.

The show went off without a hitch until the closing moments when Caesar brought all of his guests on stage, pulling Peeta and Katniss to either of his sides.  ”Is it everlark or peeniss?  The fans can’t seem to decide.  I think everlark sounds more festive myself.  Like holly, or another Christmas plant.  What’s that called again?”  

It was a dirty trick to begin with, but when Caesar cheekily pointed out the mistletoe hanging overhead, Peeta could smell the trap.

Katniss looked like she was about to bolt.  Her body was so rigid and her smile so forced, she looked deranged.  They couldn’t prolong this awkward moment.  Not any longer.  The cameras were rolling and the world was watching in that instant.

Peeta did the only thing he could think of to neutralize the situation on live television.  He grabbed Caesar’s face and placed a wet kiss right on his cheek.  The studio audience went crazy at this, appeasing Caesar’s thirst for a highlight reel, and he dropped the subject.

When the cameras went dark, and the stage cleared, Peeta caught Katniss backstage.  ”I’m sorry.  I had no idea he was going to do that,” he said.  He should have known.  He could usually predict these types of things.

"It’s fine," she said, and she smiled at him warmly.  "It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, I guess."

He laughed.  ”How bad did you think it would be?  Because that was pretty bad out there.”

She shrugged, then she was looking up and down the hallway distractedly.  Before he could ask her what the problem was, she rolled onto her toes and kissed him quickly.

"I owed you one," she explained.  "The mistletoe."

He grinned.  ”I didn’t know you were such a stickler for the rules.”

"I’m not," she said, her smile shy and her olive cheeks tinted with an intriguing shade of crimson.

"Unless you want to be," he prompted.

She licked her lips, her gaze lingering on his mouth.  ”I want to,” she said.

"To what?  Use me for my mistletoe?"  He meant to tease her, but he couldn’t fight the edge to his voice.

She looked away.  ”Peeta,” she said carefully, and he felt her fingers creep around his.  ”I want you.  You know that.  Right?”

"Yeah?" he said.

She checked the hallway again to ensure they were alone, then nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck.  ”Yeah,” she said, kissing him again.


	3. Baby

"Daddy, can we go to the park?"

Peeta was carrying a FedEx box to the kitchen, which he had picked up from the front porch earlier in the morning.

"Not right now, sweetheart," he said.  There was probably a box cutter hidden in one of the 1500 drawers, but Peeta went straight to the butcher block, and plucked a steak knife from the bottom row.

"Is that Oscar?" she said, climbing up the rungs of the bar stool to perch herself on the kitchen island.

He pierced the clear tape with the blade and sliced the box open.  Parting the mound of bubble wrap he lifted the golden statue.  The little girl’s blue eyes grew twice in size. 

"He’s so pretty!" she exclaimed.  She reached her tiny hands out, flexing her fingers impatiently.  "Can I play with it?"

"No honey, this isn’t a toy," he said.

She let out a little huff, the scowl sharpening her round face was distinctly Katniss.  “It looks like a Barbie,” she said stubbornly.

Peeta helped hoist her onto his shoulders, keeping a firm grip on her calf to keep her from falling.  “It’s a big kid Barbie doll,” he said, carrying her to his office.  They stood before his book case, now littered with shiny statues, and stared at it thoughtfully.

"Where should this one go, princess?"

She was already distracted, twisting his curls into odd patterns on top of his head.  She let out a dramatic sigh.  “I don’t know, there,” she said, flicking her wrist at nothing in particular.

Being stuck inside for the last few days, his daughter was definitely getting a bit stir crazy.  Peeta set his Oscar in between his DGA plaque and BAFTA award, then swung the little girl off his shoulders to place her on her feet.

"When’s mommy coming home?" she said, her red lips puckered into a pout.

"This afternoon, hopefully."

"Is she bringing the baby?"

"He’s not the baby," Peeta said, tugging on her lopsided pigtail.  He still hadn’t gotten the hang of weaving hair.  "He’s your brother."

And what a surprise her brother had been.  He hadn’t been due for another month, and while Katniss was hesitant about attending the Academy Award ceremony in her condition, Peeta had been the favorite to win, and she wanted to be there to support him.

He’d noticed she had been in faint discomfort during the limo ride there, but Katniss, being Katniss, powered through it, cringing and gritting her teeth through red carpet interview after red carpet interview.

She had kept almost a death grip on his hand through the show opening and somewhere between the awards for editing and sound she finally admitted the words every antsy, expecting father, on the night of receiving the biggest award of his life longs to hear: “It’s time.”

"If you were worried that the toilets were overflowing again, rest at ease, it was just Katniss Everdeen’s water breaking," Caesar had announced after they’d left to a roaring fit of laughter.

Katniss had urged Peeta to stay behind, “It probably won’t be for hours, anyway, you’ll still make it,” she reasoned as they boarded the awaiting ambulance.  Peeta laughed.  “Are you talking about the baby or the announcement for Best Director?”

There was no question though, he wasn’t going to miss the birth of his son for anything.

Katniss and Peeta’s impromptu exit, however, had been the story of the night.  At 8:45, when his award was announced, the presenter accepted it on his behalf, making the quip, “Apparently his wife is presenting him with an Oscar of his own right now.”

He didn’t even have to look out the window to see the paparazzi, buzzing like flies outside the gate waiting for the first shots of the happy addition to the most buzzed about couple in the entertainment industry.

"Baby, go put your jacket on," Peeta said, ushering her towards the garage door.

"I’m not cold," she said.

It was February, but it was also Los Angeles.  He pulled a baseball cap on and tucked his curls beneath the brim, then he brought up the hood of his sweatshirt and tightened the drawstring.

"You look silly, daddy," she laughed. 

He grabbed one of Katniss’s floppy hats off the hook and placed it on her head.  “Now you do too,” he said.  “You want sunglasses?”

Her eyes lit up.  “I want the airplane ones!” she said.

Peeta fished out a pair of aviators from a drawer in the closet, and the over sized frames balanced loosely over her tiny nose.

Pulling open the door to the jeep with the darkest tinted windows, Peeta strapped his daughter into the backseat, then pulled the car down the driveway, keeping his head bowed as an onslaught of bright flashes filled the morning sky.

His little girl was less modest, and she placed her palms and nose against the glass, giving them a gap toothed smile.

"We’re playing hide and seek, pumpkin," he told her gently, and she turned back in her seat to fold her hands into her lap.

The drive to Cedars-Sinai was surprisingly calm for a Monday, and he drove a lap around the building, noting that the Emergency Room entrance had the fewest cameras scouted.

After he pulled into a spot, he swung around to unbuckle his daughter.  “Are we going to name him Oscar?” she asked, tugging on the brim of her floppy hat.

He hoisted her onto his hip.  In his other hand he hauled the brand new baby carrier.  “I don’t think so, sweetie.  No.”

"I think that’s what I’m going to call him," she decided anyway.

"Okay," he chuckled.  Again he kept his head bowed, shielding her face with his when he heard the shutter clicks by the front door.

Once they were inside, he navigated towards the nursery, and then to Katniss’s private room.

She was already dressed in the clothing from her overnight bag, and she sat perched on the bed, nursing the tiny infant.  Their daughter bounded across the small room and jumped into the bed beside her.

"Is that him?" she said, her eyes wide and full of wonder.  She turned to her father and looked at him expectantly.  "He doesn’t look like a Barbie," she said as if he had lied to her.

Peeta was caught off guard.  “That’s because he’s a baby,” he said.

"He’s not a baby," she said, parroting his earlier words.  "He’s my brother."

Peeta sighed tiredly and sat on the other side of Katniss, pressing a kiss to her temple.  The tiny infant unlatched from her breast and made a gurgling sound as he suctioned in air.

"Did you come up with a name yet?" he asked.

"Not yet," she admitted.

"How about Haymitch Jr.?"

Although her eyes were silver, the incredulous looks she struck him with mirrored her daughter’s perfectly.  “How about no.”

He took the swaddled bundle from her arms and gingerly tapped against his back.  “We’ll think of something,” he said.

Peeta placed the tiny boy into his carrier, clicking together all the clips to secure him in place.  His head was bald, except for a few light wisps that probably wouldn’t be permanent.  When he opened his eyes, they were still colorless, but Peeta swore he saw some silver flecks begin to peek through.  He took a long moment to admire him, touching the pad of his thumb to the infant’s ruddy cheek, so impossibly soft, he didn’t understand.

"How do you want to do this?" he said, breaking briefly from his reverie.  "I’ll take him, you take her, then we’ll meet in the middle?"

Katniss adjusted the aviators on her daughter’s face and kissed her cheeks.  “They’ll still get their picture,” she said sadly.

"They’re very excited to see what caused such a commotion last night," he said.  "I spoke with the hospital security last night.  The most they can really offer is an escort.  You can’t exactly close down access to a hospital."

"I know."

He sighed.  “I’ll go pull the car around.  We’ll make a quick exit.”

The first delivery wasn’t so difficult.  Peeta was mostly considered a washed up has been back then, although he had been working regularly with a successful restaurant and a string of producer credits on films that had done quite well.  He wasn’t a leading man heartthrob anymore though, and Katniss had taken enough time away from music to lose relevance.

Unfortunately, they weren’t that way anymore.  Katniss’s album was at the top of the charts and Peeta had literally _just_  won the biggest award in Hollywood.

Peeta jogged briskly to their jeep and pulled it up as close to the entrance as he could.  Two nurses were assisting Katniss, who was being pushed along in a wheelchair.  He rushed to get his daughter in the car first, strapping her in the backseat before grabbing his son’s carrier.

There was a thin blanket draped over the top, protecting him entirely from view.  He drowned out the clicks and the the flashing, but then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted a hand, reaching for the corner of the blanket.  Peeta whipped around so fast, he may have left part of his body behind, and his fist bundled hand stopped mere centimeters from the paparazzo’s jaw.

He clenched his teeth in warning, still letting his fist threaten in the air.  “Ive let you have every day,” he told the stranger forcefully.  “You have found a way to steal every day from me.  Don’t take this one.”

The man cowered back a few steps, but the others’ cameras still flashed away.  Blood rushed to his ears, silencing anything else.  He closed his eyes to calm himself with a few deep breaths, only realizing he was still standing out in the open, baby in hand for the world to see, when Katniss began to gently guide him towards the car.

She climbed in first, taking the center seat, and helped fasten the buckles to anchor the carrier.

"They’re still ours," she promised him.

Instantly, he felt relief, the tension from his shoulders waning.  He had today and tomorrow and a thousand yesterdays with her, more days than he could have ever possibly imagined.

He didn’t want to share those memories, but if it meant holding on to her, and their two perfect children, he’d figure out a way to make it work.

Still, he flipped the paparazzi the bird as he rounded the car and drove away.


	4. Christmas II

When they first found out that Katniss was pregnant, they were both at a sort of crossroads in their careers.  Peeta’s restaurant had failed, and although Katniss’s records were selling reasonably well, they weren’t seeing a ton of money from it.  Most of that went to the label.

Both Peeta and Katniss wanted to secure the best future possible for their child.  While Peeta had grown up reasonably comfortable, Katniss had struggled.  And one of her biggest fears was failing her children in the same way her mother had failed her.  Most of Katniss’s money was tied up in her sister’s education, which she was happy to provide, but meant that it was Peeta’s income they mostly relied on.

It was for these reasons that Peeta made some questionable career choices around this time.  Taking on a few roles in projects that were solely for the paycheck.  One of which was a holiday movie for a family cable channel.

He’d forgotten about the movie entirely, until one day, years later, his daughter stumbled upon it in the midst of December.  

For the most part, they tried to isolate their children from their lives in show business.  And they had been pretty successful.  ”Daddy plays make believe.”  ”Mommy is inside the radio.” 

Somehow it worked.

But at six, their daughter, Lucy, was on the cusp of understanding in a way that couldn’t easily be excused.

"Are you Santa?" she said, rather seriously, looking up at him from the floor, where she lay on her stomach in front of the television.

His eyes widened.  Technically… “No, of course not sweetheart,” he said quickly.

"You’re in the suit," she said accusingly.  "And Auntie Johanna is there."

Oh right.  Johanna Mason was in it too.  She played his love interest.  He really needed to change the channel.

"She’s not your aunt," he said shortly.  "She’s your pretend aunt, and in the movie, we’re both playing pretend, like you do sometimes."

"You can’t  _pretend_  to be Santa, Daddy.”

He lifted his eyebrows at the gravity of her tone.  He wasn’t aware of this rule, and pointing out the pretend Santas she was exposed to on a daily basis didn’t seem like the best course of action.

"He’s awfully busy, especially this time of year.  Sometimes he needs a little help…"

That’s right.  Santa was so busy, he couldn’t film a low budget holiday movie about a young man learning he is the descendant of Kris Kringle.  So a washed up actor took on the burden as a favor.

"That makes sense," she said after a long, thoughtful moment.

He thought the matter was settled until the next day, when she came home from school with a frown creasing her round face.

"Daddy, you know Santa," she said, as if he were a friend they had over for dinner regularly.  Peeta nodded.  "Why doesn’t he bring presents to everyone?"

Peeta was at a loss for words.

"Susie celebrates Christmas, and she’s the nicest person I know, and she says Santa may not come to her house this year because he couldn’t last year.  If he was so busy, why didn’t  _you_  go bring presents?”

Peeta felt his heart drop in his chest.  ”You’re right,” he said.  ”I haven’t been doing a very good job helping out.”  He picked her up and set her on the edge of the counter.  ”Why don’t you get together some the ingredients to make our special cookies, and I’ll go give Santa a call to see what I can do to get Susie her presents.”

Her face lit up and she nodded eagerly.

"I need for you to make it snow," Peeta said a moment later.  He lowered his voice and shut his office door behind him.

"In Los Angeles?" Effie said on the other end.  "Peeta it’s 68 degrees."

"I don’t care.  I want snow in my backyard.  And I need presents too.  Lots of them."

"It’s the day before Christmas Eve…"

"Buy out Toys R Us if you have to.  Then call up all the shelters in the area.  Talk to Katniss’s charity organization, they probably have a listing.  Invite them all over."  He scrubbed his hand over his face.  "We’ll probably need food too…"

"And you want all of this for tonight?"  Effie repeated.

"If anyone can do it, I know it’s you."

An hour later, their house was packed with caterers, special effects designers, and toy store employees.

"Santa works awfully fast," Lucy noted, her pink lips dotted with cookie crumbs.

Their decorations for Christmas had been moderate, but Effie’s crew had created a winter wonderland explosion in their living room.  The furniture had been removed, and Santa’s workshop was left in its place.

It wasn’t until Katniss walked through the front door with Maxwell on her hip that he realized he was forgetting something.

"This is different…" she said slowly.  "I thought we agreed we weren’t going to spoil them."

Maxwell was already flapping his arms excitedly with a strand of garland clamped in his chubby fist.

"I got carried away," he admitted.

"Mommy, look what Santa brought for Susie," Lucy said, rushing towards her mother and tugging on her hand eagerly.

"They’re busing over people from the shelter too," he added.  "I hope that’s okay…"

"Peeta…" she said, her wide gray eyes glassing over, shimmering with the bright lights from their hasty winter wonderland.

"We have too much," he said.

"We do," she agreed.  She kissed him, both of their children trapped between their embrace.  "You’re too good," she said.

"Most of this was Effie."

"Oh, I know," she said with a laugh.  "But you…" she pressed her hand against where his heart beat.  "I love you."

They’d always have more than they needed now, their earlier fears now quelled.  It was never the money they needed.  It was this.


End file.
